


Sound mind

by Builder



Series: Heroverse [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Mind Control, Mission Fic, Nat is helpful, Sickfic, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 14:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12655701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder
Summary: Steve had a bad run-in with mind control on a mission.





	Sound mind

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt from Tumblr. Find me at Builder051.

“What the fuck is that thing?” Nat shouts from across the parking garage.

Steve can hear her voice both in real-time and through the comm in his hear, so the question seems extra loud.  Normally Steve would chide her for cursing, but today he holds off.  He’s actually wondering exactly the same thing.

The drone-like thing buzzes in a wide arc up near the concrete ceiling.  Steve eyes it warily, unsure what to make of the whirring machine.  It’s around the size of a pizza box and just a square, but formed of narrow black and grey rods interspersed with antennas and propellers.  He’s seen people fly similar contraptions in the park as if they’re no more than remote controlled kites.  But he has a feeling this one is much more sinister.

“Surveillance, maybe?” Steve suggests, finally answering Nat’s question.

“Want me to blast it out of the air?”  Nat lifts the laser-shooting weapon on her wrist to eye level and takes aim.

“Mm, hold off a minute,” Steve decides, tilting his head to the side as the device passes in a tighter loop.  “Fury?” he asks through his comm.  “Any intel on drones or what they might be using them for?”

“Not specifically,” Fury’s voice crackles over the connection.  “Tech, weapons tech, we got all that.  But it’s a lot to ask for individual weapons to show up on just a radar scan.  Might want to take that up with Stark next time you see him.”

“Yeah, right,” Steve replies.  “He’d laugh at me for just trying to explain it.”  Then, “But you think it is a weapon?”

“Better assume the worst and hope for the best,” Fury says.

“So…course of action would be to disable it?” Nat poses again.

“Not so fast,” Fury commands over the staticky communication link.  “It could be rigged to detonate.  I’ve got Hill researching it.  For now, hang tight and continue the sweep.”

Nat rolls her eyes.  “Geez, don’t jump the gun or anything,” she mutters sarcastically.  She keeps her weapon raised and stares at the drone unblinkingly.

“Alright, well, I’m pressing on,” Steve says.  He takes a few backwards steps toward the ramp up to the garage’s next level, then turns to see where he’s going.  He only gets a couple yards, though, before he feels the first inkling of something very wrong.

Every hair on Steve’s body stands to attention.  The sensation of full-body goosebumps is sudden and awkward, seeing as he’s neither cold nor scared.  Then icy coldness crashes over the back of his head.

Steve can hear Nat yelling at him, but her real-world voice is muffled as if through a thick pane of glass.  All sound coming through the comm dissolves into snowfall-like silence.  There’s immense pressure against Steve’s eardrums, then an explosive, tearing pain, like something too large for the space is being forced into his skull from all sides.

Angry red fog creeps into Steve’s visual field from the corners, distorting his sight into cloudy outlines.  He feels his heart throbbing into palpitations, going too fast and forcing his breathing up toward hyperventilation.

“Steeeeve?”  Nat calls in quiet slow motion.  It’s like she’s still outside the bubble Steve’s been sucked into.

A flame burns in his chest.  He’s going to melt out of his suit, barbecue in his own skin.  And the itch to move walks down his arms and legs like fire ants, biting pinpricks into his skin every few inches.  Steve’s hand grows sweaty inside his glove as he hefts his shield.

He should lift the vibranium disk to his shoulder and slam it into Nat’s face.  Down her to the paved floor and drop the shield’s edge on her throat.  Leave her there bleeding out and take her guns.

Steve’s fingers bend around a weapon he’s not holding.  He prepares to pull a trigger and send chaos and pain out of his head and into the world around him.

Dark flickering redness shifts around the corners of his eyes.  He can feel the pressure building in his brain, writhing and snaking through every though and memory he’s ever had.

What is SHIELD?

Who is Bucky?

What does it matter now, when he’s reprogrammed to care only for the destruction of everything around him?  The idea tugs the corners of Steve’s lips up into a grimacing grin.  His eyes lift, and a horrendous wave of pain crashes through his head.

A boot explodes into the small of Steve’s back, and he stumbles forward a step.

“What the fuck?  Come on,” Nat roars.  Laser beams shoot from every direction, or at least that’s what it seems like in Steve’s wavering double vision.  He trips into the garage’s concrete wall on his jelly-like legs.  His shield clatters to the ground, and he presses his prickling palms and forehead against the rough stone.

The crashing of metal and plastic echoes in Steve’s ears, and he swallows hard against the pressure of the sound.  Every inch of his skull aches like he’s taken a blow to the head, and confused emptiness rattles in his mind.  Steve does his best to place himself in time and space using the senses that aren’t already overwhelmed.

It smells like copper and blood.  Bracing his shoulder into the wall, Steve drags one glove under his nose.  It comes away streaked crimson.  He instinctually snuffs and swallows hard, and the metallic taste that follows flicks the dizzy pain in his head toward nausea. Steve slides down the concrete into a squat, wrapping an arm around his stomach and pressing his aching temple into the wall as if it’s a pillow.

“Are you ok?”  Nat’s voice isn’t loud, but it has the effect of a jackhammer on Steve’s eardrums.

“Aw, god,” Steve groans, not trusting himself to keep his mouth open long enough to utter multi-syllable words.  He thinks it would probably hurt less if he had a bullet lodged in his forehead.

“You’re bleeding.  Where’d you get hit?”

“Didn’t…Just…in my head,” Steve chokes out.  “I’m…ok.”

“I don’t think you get to be the judge of that,” Nat says.  She kneels at Steve’s side and uses her sleeve to wipe combined sweat and blood off his face.  “I already called for backup.”

“I’m ok…I can…”  Steve shifts as if to make to stand, but dizziness redoubles.  Rogue whispers of violence stir among his thoughts, and he tries to focus on completing the mission.  But too quickly he has to swallow rising vertigo and the intention is lost.

“You’re staying put until someone else gets here,” Nat insists.  “And I’m sitting here with you to make sure you listen.”


End file.
